This Is Not Right
by Meanders01
Summary: Sam hasn't seen his brother since their father died. So when Dean arrives at Sam's apartment at Stanford - bringing with him an angel - he is none too pleased. Apparently Lucifer is on the rise and it seems to be the brothers' job to stop him - whether they want to or not. It's an AU, in which Azazel dies before implementing the second half of the special children plan.
1. Chapter I

_Early in the May of 2005, a man named John Winchester died, whilst killing the demon Azazel. The demon's plan crumbled; John Winchester died content._

_He left behind him only two sons, a leather jacket, an old car and a legacy. His youngest son, already estranged from the family continued his life; he got into law school only a few months later, and studied there. _

_His elder brother, however, took the jacket, car _and_ legacy. He took them with pride, picking up his father's work with relish._

* * *

"There's a guy sitting on our doorstep."

Jessica was leaned on the doorframe of the room she and Sam shared, with the shopping she'd gone out for still bagged in her hands. She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh," said Sam, sitting at his desk and continuing typing, very deliberately not looking at her. He then added; "Is he still there? That's patient."

"No, he's not still there, because after finding out he was your _brother_," Her look was disapproving. "I invited him in."

"What?" Sam's reply was short and disbelieving. He swivelled to face her. "There was a reason I left him out there."

"Which was? I don't understand what your problem with him is. You don't talk about him, you don't talk to him. Have you even seen him since your father died?"

"No," answered Sam slowly. "But his line of work makes him very hard to track down."

"And what is that line of work? You can't blame me for being curious." She looked at Sam with an odd, unreadable expression "Before you say anything, he didn't offer any answers either. Just some mild flirting. He didn't even acknowledge being your brother."

"Could you-" A guilty half smile creased Sam's face.

"I'll go put this away," Jess answered, raising the shopping bags she was holding.

"Right. Thank you. We'll be going out."

Before she could protest, Sam pushed past her and went down the stairs two at a time. Dean was leant on the wall of the hall.

In the two years – almost to the day - since Sam had last seen his brother, Dean hadn't changed much. He was more tanned, or perhaps it was dirt; he didn't look particularly clean. There were a few bruises and scabs visible, the kind of minor injuries that had been a staple growing up. Dean was still dressed in the same way, a copy of their father. He still wore the man's leather jacket. Although Sam did note the amulet round his brother's neck – he felt a sudden rush of fondness for Dean.

"Sammy," Dean grinned at his brother, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He looked tired and on edge. Sam hoped it wasn't still the fallout from their father's death, but surely two years must have been long enough for Dean recover, at least a bit?

"Don't call me that. What are you doing here, Dean?" Before his brother could answer, Sam grabbed his coat and opened the door. "Come on."

"I like, uh, Jess," said Dean casually. He kicked his car as they passed it; a mistreated Ford Mustang.

"Don't," Sam scowled at the ground. They walked in silence for a long, awkward few minutes. There was a small diner on the law school campus – as was Sam and Jessica's apartment – and they headed towards that, Dean struggling slightly to keep up with Sam's long, angry gait.

They were almost there when Sam stopped suddenly, turned to his brother and took inhaled deeply. "Why are you here, Dean?"

Dean gave a nervous chuckle. "That is a long story."

"You're not going until you tell it. And you better tell it fast – there's no way you're coming back to the apartment."

"Don't worry," Dean said, with a glance over his shoulder. "I have to tell it anyway."

"Good. Right." There was a pause. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"I'm just rosy, Sammy. Just fine." He wasn't, but Sam didn't wish to press it. Dean was never forthcoming about his emotions. He was hostile and reckless and Sam had washed his hands of him after their father's funeral, or at least what the hunters pretended was one, when his last attempt at getting his brother to open up had ended badly.

"Don't call me that." Sam answered instead. They went into the diner, Sam leading the way. A girl in a couple of his classes said 'hi' and he did his best to smile at her, but not doing too well. He could sense his brother winking, regardless of whether Dean actually did or not; Sam didn't check. They took a corner table, where there was a limited chance of people hearing them.

Sam leaned across the table, causing ridges to form in the checked tablecloth. "Explain."

"Well, uh. I guess it starts when I died."

Sam, who had just sat up straight, leaned forward again, scrutinizing his brother. "You what?"

"Died."

Before Dean could elaborate, their waitress appeared.

"What can I getcha?" she asked.

Sam was about to wave her away, when Dean asked for a cheeseburger. She turned to him expectantly.

"Coffee," he muttered. She left, and he turned his attention back to Dean. "You _died_?"

"Yeah. It was kind of boring, too. A car crash. About a year ago."

"Right." There was a pause "No, wait, actually that's not alright. You died? And came back? What was it, some kind of deal? And why didn't I know? If you hadn't come back, I'd have thought you were still alive, just gone!"

Dean muttered something about 'it not making a difference anyway', but Sam was too caught up in his flow of disbelieving questions.

Eventually he finished on; "How did you come back?"

"Uh, that took me a while to find out. Basically, I wake up four months later. And that's it. I dig myself up – I was buried by some hospital, by the way, they thought I had no family and no one that gave a damn." A look of anger flashed across his face. "I do all your basic summoning spells, to try and find out what it was that brought me back, but the thing was a no-show."

"Why didn't you try something stronger? I'm sure Bobby-"

"Me and Bobby, we- we ain't on speaking terms. We had a falling-out over a case in St Louis. Before I died. But yeah, so nothing really happens. I lost Dad's car in the crash, couldn't track it down, so I hotwired a few and went back to hunting stuff. I mean, I tried finding out, but I dunno, it didn't seem to matter that much."

"But you did?"

"Yeah." Dean gave the same shifty look he had earlier. "Like, I'd been hearing things for months. Weird stories, from both hunters and monsters. The demons were very chatty. Course, I didn't stop to listen. But yeah, odd rumours. Of angels."

He looked at Sam, obviously expecting some kind of smirk or laugh, but Sam remained neutral. "Does that not slightly surprise you, Sam?" asked Dean "I mean, angels!" He guffawed loudly and surprisingly coldly.

"I guess, it's a bit, uh, new. But not that implausible. I mean, everything else exists."

"Right. Never saw you as a believer, Sammy."

"Hmm. Go on. You were talking about angels."

"Oh, we haven't even got to angels yet." Dean gave another bitter laugh, slightly more subdued this time. "So there were rumours. But then one demon I ganked, she started talking about Lucifer and seals and stuff, how it was her duty, and I was curious because I'd heard it a lot lately, so I was listening, and she started talking about how the angels were looking for me. Then I exorcised her, but I was thinking about it, and it did make sense; there was a ton of weird stuff going on. And then that evening some guy appeared in the backseat of the car, where I'd been sleeping, and was all like 'I am an angel of the lord'." Dean deepened his voice and creased his brow for the last part, the impression a caricature.

Sam didn't reply for a moment. Dean leaned back, glanced at the serving counter presumably to see when his burger was coming.

"What?" said Sam after a moment, and then repeated himself. "What? What do you mean, Lucifer? Like, the devil, Lucifer? And-" He shook his head. "What are you talking about Dean? And why are you telling me?"

"We'll get to that. I didn't know much more than that, not even after the demon – her name was Ruby, I think, she was a bitch – went all confessional. Opening the seals meant Lucifer was free. That was it. Even the angel – his name, by the way, is Castiel – didn't add much. Basically, you open 66 of those seals and Lucifer walks the earth. This was like four months ago. Half the seals were already down at that point. And I-"Guilt crossed Dean's face, and he stared towards the floor for a moment, before looking back up, although not directly at Sam, as though looking his brother in the eyes was hard to do. "Nevermind. Well, Cas dropped in on me from time to time, telling me to prevent things, which I did. Mostly I went about my own way, though. I didn't have much of an option."

Dean paused again. Sam knew what was coming, before Dean even began speaking again.

"Then, last month, Cas comes to me, says that the last seals been opened. Lucifer's free, Sammy, and the apocalypse is on."

This time Sam laughed. It was strained, but he seemed genuinely amused.

"Good one, Dean. Like when we were kids, right? Pranks and stuff. It's dumb, Dean. I'd have thought you past it. I guess not. But it was a good one – you genuinely had me believing-"

Anything else Sam had to was swallowed up by a sudden, impossible gust of wind, as the ground underneath him _disappeared_. As did his chair; he fell to the floor.

"Dammit, I hadn't got my burger yet!" Opposite him and also sat on the ground, Dean's protest was directed at someone above Sam's head. "Come on, Cas, timing!"

"But your brother seemed to need proof. I thought the timing was good." The voice was unrealistically deep, and came from behind Sam. He twisted his head around, and saw a man standing there, wearing a dark blue suit and an expression of utmost confusion, his head tilted to one side. Dean had called him Cas. Meaning he was presumably the angel – no, not angel, Dean had been joking – the _man_ Dean had been talking about.

Man with the power to move people.

They were sat in a clearing, in the middle of a pine forest. It could have been anywhere in America – probably a number of places worldwide.

"Where- where are we?" Sam asked.

"A few miles North of Hanover, New Hampshire." answered the man. Perhaps. He'd gone from looking confused to peering distractedly into the trees, but now looked down at Sam. "I'm Castiel, an angel of the lord."

"Yes. Dean said." Sam felt sick. He needed to get home; back to Jess. "Can we go back, please?"

"No." Castiel's reply was blunt. "You can never go back."

"What?" Some part of Sam's brain, some stupid unfocused part, thought to itself that he had been saying that a lot today. "Is this a kidnapping?"

"No. You can go back if you'd like. But it's likely everyone around you will die. I think that is not preferable." Castiel's words were lost on Sam, who'd stood up, and almost fallen towards Dean, his legs oddly shaky.

"Dean, why did you come here? Why did you bring this?"

Dean held up his hands. "Hey man, I'm probably never going to get my car back."

"My whole life is there. No, there's no way I'm not going back." He turned angrily to the angel – he still wasn't convinced, but Castiel's oddness meant it seemed a better title than 'man'. "Take me back. Take me back right now."

Castiel hesitated. "I am not sure that is… advisable."

"Take me back!"

Again, Castiel paused, but he took a step forward and put a hand on Sam's shoulder and then Dean's.

"I haven't explained yet," he said, but the ground moved again anyway, and they were back outside Sam's apartment. His legs were weak again; they felt about to give out, but regardless, Sam staggered towards the house. Dean followed slower, and Castiel walked a few steps behind him.

Once inside, Sam hesitated, wondering what room Jessica would be in. He felt a great need to get to her, and quick; the day's events had filled him with a sense of foreboding. He tried the kitchen, but with no luck, so he went back upstairs to their bedroom. The door was closed, and for a moment, Sam feared the worst, but no; the room was empty. Suddenly, the house felt oppressive, and its silence – which Sam hadn't noticed up to that point – was almost tangible.

He made his way back downstairs, and almost collided with Dean and Castiel in the hall.

"She's not here," said the angel.

"She can go out." replied Sam, peering into the front room, which was small and cluttered with odd chairs. There was no sign of his girlfriend.

"No, she's not here. In this town. Possibly not this country. I suspect it was Zachariah." He trailed off.

Sam, in a sudden and smooth movement, pushed into the angel and pinned him against the wall. "Where," he asked, slowly and angrily "Is Jessica?"

"I suppose you'd say she'd been taken into protective custody."

"By angels!" Sam looked to Dean, who had not said a word, nor made a move for a while. He shrugged.

"Yes," said Castiel, his voice still neutral, despite Sam having his arm across his windpipe. "To protect her from the demons. And, I suspect, to use as a bargaining chip."


	2. Chapter II

"Bargaining for what? What has Jessica have to do with any of this? She doesn't know anything!" Sam could hear the anxiety in his voice increasing, and couldn't do anything about it. He was far past the point of remaining calm.

"You ask a lot of questions," said Castiel. Dean gave an amused snort. It was his fault that all this had been brought down on Sam; he had no right to laugh. Sam was about to say something, when the angel continued. "They will be bargaining for you. That is what Jessica has to do with this - you."

His expression was completely deadpan, and Sam wanted to punch him.

"Why?" he asked instead.

Castiel turned to Dean, the same confused expression he'd had when Sam had first seen him, only a few minutes ago, back on his face. "You didn't tell him?"

"No, Cas, because you spirited us away!" Dean sounded exasperated, but that was it.

"Oh." Castiel paused thoughtfuly "We should probably go. I'm sure Zachariah will send someone to collect you two shortly."

"I need to go to Harvelle's." Sam suddenly felt very isolated; he had no idea who his brother was talking about.

"I can take you." Castiel put his hands out and was about to put one on each brother's shoulder, but Dean shook him off.

"We'll drive."

"Fine." And the angel – Sam had stopped doubting; he'd stopped caring – disappeared. There was a moment of silence, but before Sam could ask anything, Dean stepped in.

"Go get your stuff. Not much. We probably won't be coming back, mind."

"It's the middle of a semester, Dean! I can't just leave!"

Finally, Dean seemed to engage, properly. He looked Sam in the eye for what, Sam realised was the first time. "No, Sam. It's the middle of a war. So you better just leave. Now go get your stuff. I'll explain in the car." There was a quiet anger in his voice. Sam wasn't sure whether it was directed at him, but it was slightly terrifying, so he complied.

Dean was waiting in the car for him, feet up on the dashboard, hip flask in his hand. Sam gave it an incredulous look, but didn't comment. Instead, he dumped his bags on the backseat and slumped down in the front seat, next to his brother. Many a journey had been spent like this; a younger Dean driving, with his music and a worrying reckless grip on the steering wheel. And Sam next to him, far too young for these journeys and just wanting it to be over fast. They weren't exactly happy memories.

"Drive," said Sam bluntly. "And explain."

Dean didn't though, not until they'd been on the road a while. He turned his music up loud – their father's music, really – and they sped through California and into Nevada.

Sam did protest about the music; there was such a thing as too much drums. Dean shot him a sideways glance, a grin, and told him to shut his cakehole. It was the most like the Dean that Sam knew that he'd been all day, and despite it all, he smiled back at his elder brother. But Dean had already looked away.

It was several hours before Dean finally slowed – although he didn't stop driving – and ejected the Led Zeppelin tape from the cassette player.

"Oh man, how do I tell you this?" he asked, looking towards the car's roof. He pressed on, however. "Uh, so you know how demons need their meatsuits, to possess? Well, angels do to. Like, that guy isn't what Castiel actually looks like. He-"

"Yeah, okay Dean. I get it. Move on."

"Um, so, to fight Lucifer there's this other angel who's going to appear. Called Michael. And they're going to have a face off. Only to do that they need vessels. And-" Dean stopped talking; he seemed to be finding it hard to continue. He looked towards the car's roof again. "Okay, Sam, you've got to believe me. I know it'll sound dumb, but I can't be bothered to explain more. Or ask questions. Or talk."

Sam waited, unsure how exactly to respond. It seemed easiest to agree. "Sure."

"Right. Basically, I am that Michael guy's vessel. Oh, but it gets better." A bitter laugh came from Dean's throat. It sounded slightly like he was choking. "You're Satan's."

And in one swift movement, Dean jammed the tape back into the car's player and violently twisted the volume knob up, until the riffs seemed to make the whole car vibrate.

It was a long and silent journey.

Sam didn't say anything, but that was only because he didn't know how to respond. Everything seemed to be happening too fast. He'd been out for years, and suddenly, all in one day, his whole life was gone. He was tired.

It was a relief when they reached Harvelle's, which turned out to be a tiny little hunter's bar, way off any main roads. It was way after dark, but it was still open; it looked like the kind of place which got most of its custom late at night.

"Come on," said Dean, turning off the car's engine, and Sam followed without a word.

Inside, a pair of aging hunters nursed beers in silence, sour expressions on their faces. Another sat at the bar alone, his gun out next to his drink. None of them looked up at Sam and Dean's entrance. The woman on the other side of the bar did however; she fixed Dean with a stony glare.

"Dean, it has been three weeks. I told you to check back-"

Dean held up his hands. "Sorry, okay. Is Ash around?"

The woman jerked a finger towards a door, and Dean nodded his thanks and disappeared through it. She looked at Sam, who had been left standing there.

"You must be Sam," she said, and there was a warmth in her voice; she smiled. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ellen. I knew your Dad."

She held out her hand, and Sam hesitantly came forward to shake it.

"Hi."

"Take a seat." Sam complied. "So, I thought you didn't hunt." asked Ellen. Her tone invited confidence.

Sam paused. "Yeah, so did I."

"Hm, so Dean dragged you back into it. I tell you, that boy-" She broke off, shaking her head indignantly.

"Do- Do you know about the whole-" Sam hesitated, unsure how to phrase the question, but lucky Ellen knew the answer.

"The whole angel showdown thing? Yup. Unfortunately we do. Ash is currently trying to look for a way to shut it down, which is what your brother is talking to him about. No luck so far though."

The sound of the bar's door opening caused Ellen to look up sharply. "Jo. What time do you call this?"

"Sorry, Mom." A blond girl slid into the seat next to Sam's. She smiled at him. "Hi."

"Jo," said Ellen. "This is Sam Winchester. Dean's brother. Sam, this is my daughter, Jo."

"Oh," she said, with an understanding look. "Your brother is unbearable."

"Yeah," replied Sam, and then again, with more decisiveness. "Yeah. He's always been like that. But not so detached."

"Well," said Jo. "That's new for me too – he's only been like that the last couple of times I've seen him. Mostly he's just been quietly angry. Focused too, all the time."

Ellen, who had been listening, leaned forward on the bar, pushing a bottle of beer towards Sam. "He keeps a lot of his issues all bottled up inside, I'd say."

Sam nodded, and gave a humourless grin. "Yeah." He took a drink of beer.

The other man who had been sat at the bar got up, put his gun in the waistband of his jeans and nodded at Ellen, before leaving. Ellen wandered off, away from the bar.

Jo and Sam watched the hunter go, and then Jo pointed a finger at the door he'd just left through. "See, hunters like him, they're angry like your brother was, but they've been in the job years, and its mostly because everyone they know's dead, and they aren't saving as many as they used to. But your brother has no friends, and he is the most ruthless hunter I've ever met. He manages to kill the thing fast, so not too many people die, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't care if people die. So I have no clue why he's angry, and I've been watching hunters my whole life."

"I think it is because he can't help people," said Sam. "But he'd never admit it. And he couldn't save Dad. He takes it personally." He wasn't sure why he was telling this to Jo, who he'd just met. But she seemed to be in a similar position to him; she'd just said she'd been in hunting her whole life – neither of them had had any choice.

She nodded thoughtfully.

"He's pretty merciless. With his hunting. I ended up running some supplies to some guys who were on the same case, and I tagged along and that's how I met him – I mentioned him to Mom and she insisted we find him and get him here. Anyway, the thing got this girl, maybe a year or two older than me, and we came in to Dean and the dead creature and this girl, also dead, and from how he told it, it sounded like he'd let her die, so he could get to the thing. And he didn't seem to care. But he does?"

"I thought he did." Sam pursed his lips.

From across the bar, the door Dean had gone through banged open, and he emerged. "Sam," he said, coming over to them. "You've met Jo."

He was followed by a short man in a ripped denim jacket and black hair that fell to his shoulders, but only at the back of his head. Sam supposed he was Ash. He looked like a roadie.

"Ash hasn't found anything more, but he's got a case, of sorts, for us to work." Dean had an empty beer in his hand.

"Ash is a genius," murmured Jo in an aside to Sam. He doubted it. She then asked, louder; "Is this about the author guy?"

"Yeah," said Ash. He sounded like a groupie too.

"Working a case?" said Sam doubtfully. Whilst talking to Jo, he'd forgotten about the whole vessel thing, but it suddenly came back to him.

A glimmer of annoyance was visible in Dean's eyes, as he shrugged. "What else is there to do?"

"It's a cool one," said Ash.

"Unique to you two." Jo added. "Well, mostly. Can I go?" She turned to Ash to ask the question, who looked up, at something just over her shoulder. Ellen was back, her arms folded across her chest.

"Joanna Beth, we discussed this-"

"No, we discussed me going on my own. I'd be with those two this time." Jo gestured vaguely at Sam and Dean, a wide gesture, considering that one was on either side of her.

Ellen frowned. "It's still a no."

"_Mum_," Jo said, very slowly. "I'm twenty-two. I'm not a child anymore, and you can't tell me what to do."

"I can," replied Ellen, looking unimpressed. She surveyed Sam and Dean for a moment and then shook her head decisively.

Jo pouted. "But I'm in the books too-"

"Save it."

"What books?" asked Sam.

"Yours, apparently." replied Ellen. "The Supernatural series."


	3. Chapter III

After they had finished explaining – they meaning Ellen, with Jo butting in when she felt her mother was talking too slow, and an occasional interjections from Ash – Sam was silent for a while.

The bar was empty now, apart from them, and it was beginning to get light.

"So there's a series of books?" he asked finally, clarifying. "About us?" He glanced at Dean. When Ellen had begun, he'd leaned up against the bar, found himself a beer bottle and hadn't moved or spoken since.

"Seems like it." said Ellen.

"But not us as we are now?"

"No. It's like I said. You if you'd been a hunter."

Sam pressed his face into his hands. His head was pounding and he was extremely hungry. "It's too late for this." he murmured.

"Technically, it's early." said Jo, cheerfully and unhelpfully. "And we're in them too. Well, like one."

"You said," replied Sam weakly. He knew more about Jo's role in the series than he did his own.

Dean pushed himself up, off the bar. "If we set off now, we can get there today.

Ellen frowned deeply. "Let the kid sleep," she said, looking at Sam.

"He's fine," said Dean. "He can sleep in the car. Come on, brother."

He began to walk towards the door, and Sam stood up slowly and reluctantly followed. Ellen continued to look disapproving, and her expression intensified when Jo also got up, and made to also leave.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Just to say goodbye," replied Jo, shrugging, although there was a slightly guilty look about her. Ellen obviously wasn't convinced and also followed, but by the time she'd come out from behind the bar, Jo was already out of the door and climbing into the backseat of the car.

"You're not coming," said Dean. "You'll slow us down." His reasoning slightly disappointed Sam – he wasn't worried for Jo's safety; simply their own efficiency. He dreaded the long drive with his brother and spoke up just as Ellen emerged.

"No, Dean, go."

Dean rolled his eyes, but put his foot down and the car accelerated off, leaving a furious Ellen and behind her Ash, who looked amused.

Jo was grinning like crazy, caught up in the exhilaration of this escape.

"Is this your first hunt?" asked Sam. He wanted, but Dean had turned on some drum heavy music so there was no chance of that.

"No way," Jo replied. "I've been on tons. Mostly getting supplies and stuff admittedly, but still."

"So why didn't Ellen want you to come on this one? It's not exactly dangerous."

Jo didn't answer. She looked guiltily back at the roadhouse, and Dean spoke for her, staring straight ahead.

"It's because of us. We're dangerous. I mean, hell, you're goddamn Lucifer."

"Thanks for reminding me."

The atmosphere in the car was unpleasant. Jo's elation had evaporated, Dean was acting the same as he had been for the last- what was it? A day? Less? It felt like months. And Sam's head ached. There was a buzzing in his ears.

Without realising it, he fell asleep.

He had a dream, which slipped away as soon as he awakened.

When he woke up it was light outside; perhaps mid-afternoon, and Dean and Jo were playing some kind of game; Dean had to say a word, and then Jo had to say one that had some connection to it, and then Dean had to link to Jo's word and so it went, back and forth. It was surreal.

"Mermaid," said Jo chirpily.

"Disney, or whatever." Dean sounded embarrassed. Sam stifled a laugh; he didn't want them to realise he was awake quite yet – he had his back to Dean, and he watched bits of fences flick by, out of the car window as the car sped along.

"Princess." replied Jo. She sounded faintly wistful. Sam doubted princesses were a common feature in her childhood, any more than, say, skateboards or action men had been in his and Dean's.

"I, uh, don't feel comfortable playing this anymore." Dean paused. "I mean, it was okay when I could do Zep songs, but don't push your princesses on me."

Sam sat up. "Hey."

The car swerved and Dean swore "How much of that were you listening to?" He looked grumpy again. In the back of the car, Jo was giggling.

"Your brother's sweet," she said. "And you've been asleep for hours."

"I guess I needed it. It's been a long day." Sam felt better – his headache was gone – although he also felt rather numb. Perhaps that was part of what had improved his mood.

"Yeah. Dean was telling me." Sam wondered what she and Dean had been doing whilst he slept; she seemed to get on better with his brother than he did; they had obviously bonded, or something. "I'm sorry about Jessica."

Jessica. Sam had forgotten about Jess. How the hell had he done that? He gave a low groan, and leaned forward. A hipflask appeared just in front of his face. Dean was holding it out to him.

"It helps."

Sam took it and took a swig. It was very strong. Jo pursed her lips.

Silence settled once again over the car, as Sam passed the flask back to Dean, who drank from it himself. He should have left them to their game.

"I think," said Jo after a moment or two. "I'm going to try to sleep now."

"We're almost there." Dean looked back at her.

"I've been awake all night, okay? Let me get a couple of hours." She turned her face into the leather of the seat and fell asleep almost immediately – little noises, somewhere between breaths and snores, came from the back of the car.

Sam waited a few moments and then turned to Dean. "Is it just me you act pissed with, then?"

The look on Dean's face was one of genuine surprise. "No. I mean- no." He sighed. "You're going to expect me to explain now."

"It'd be good."

"See, Jo's so innocent and all, and I just don't want to break all that, so I just went along with that." The hip flask was suddenly in his hand again, and he took a long drink. "I guess she reminds me of you."

"What happened to you, Dean?" Dean had always been dependable, the big brother, who Sam could rely on, lean on. Now, Sam feared that if he were to lean on him, Dean would break completely.

"Well, Dad died-"

"I offered to come. Help you."

"Yeah, and I didn't want it. Still don't. Not if the only reason was pity. And anyway, Dad said to leave you alone."

"He did?"

"Yeah." Dean looked puzzled. "He properly cared about you, Sammy. We used to drive to Stanford to check up on you."

"What?" Sam looked to his brother, but Dean had settled on a remorseful expression, and he didn't look back.

"Anyway, Dad died and I killed things and I was pretty damn mad at everything. I severed pretty much all connection with anyone. Like Bobby – we were on a hunt and he was all worried and then we fought and yeah. I haven't seen him since. Which is a shame – he could probably help." He only looked pensive for a second, before moving on. "And that was all there was for a while. Killing things. Only then I died. A car crash, of all the ways to go. I lost the Impala – I said this, right? Earlier. Yeah, I did. Thing was, I didn't mention that between dying and waking up, I went to hell. And no, I don't want to talk about it. But it's hell for a reason. And it messed me. Really bad."

"But-"

"So anyway, I woke up. I had some things in a lock up. Guns mostly, weapons. Spare credit cards and phones. So I was all set." He put a hand up to the amulet he had round his neck, almost subconsciously. Sam wondered if that had been in the lock up too. "I know I said the rest earlier. But I tell you what though," said Dean, with a grin which made him look like the carefree twenty year old he had been once. "When I came out of the ground, I sure made some old woman scream."

"Dean, you should have-"

"Don't Sam. We've done confessions, can we just move on now?" He sighed. "Even going to hell seems kinda small after the last month. I can still remember but- it seems less important."

Dean was no longer talking to Sam; his voice was little more than a murmur now. Which made the cry he gave a moment later, as he glanced in the rear-view mirror, all the more startling. It woke Jo up too, and she gave a small shriek as she saw that a figure had appeared beside her. However, she gave a grin upon seeing who it was; "Hi Cas."

"Hello Jo," he replied gruffly. "Dean." There was a pause and then he added; "Sam."

"Dammit Cas, don't do that!" Dean slammed his hand into the steering wheel.

"Apologies. You are going to see the prophet."

"What?" Dean looked at the angel via the rear-view mirror, raising an eyebrow.

"You are visiting the prophet, Chuck Shurley. Under normal circumstances, I would not advise it, but it is possible that he may be able to give some direction as to what to do."

"Nope, I'm still lost."

"You appear to be on the right road. Regardless, I have come to give you a warning, not directions. Prophets are protected by archangels."

"Like Lucifer and Michael?" Jo cut in.

"Indeed. They are fierce and absolute. You do not wish to meet one. So do not threaten the prophet or heaven's wrath will rain upon you."

And then he was gone.

"Did he really think you meant you were actually lost?" pondered Jo, as Dean said;

"A prophet? What does that even mean?" He then hit a fist against the steering wheel. "I can't deal with more goddamn angels!"

Sam punched him in the arm, just as he went to lean his head onto the wheel.

"Watch the road."

Dean muttered something under his breath that Sam didn't entirely catch, although he thought he heard 'bitch'. He chose not to respond.

He probably wouldn't have been able to do so anyway, because at that moment Jo suddenly leant almost completely out of the car window, pointing a sign by the roadside.

"We're here!"

The town was an ordinary one; suburban and slightly greying. There were a couple of motels, just outside of town, one sleazy, the other cheap and falling apart. There was a launderette and a diner and all the usual staples of these towns. The address led to a house, ordinary if unkept.

It did not look like the kind of place a prophet would live.

Dean parked the car in front of it, and got out. Sam and Jo followed him. There was a gun in Dean's pocket, Sam noticed, a pistol of some kind, which didn't bode well.

"We're not supposed to be threatening him, remember?" he hissed, grabbing Dean's shoulder. His brother shrugged nonchalantly and continued. Jo glanced nervously up at Sam, as Dean knocked on the door.


End file.
